


Love and Care

by chicago_ruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/17437.html?thread=16276253#t16276253">this prompt</a> on the kink meme. future!au. Merlin is charged with caring for Morgana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Care

It takes him three days to find the spies hidden in the forest. Two days longer than Merlin anticipated, which causes him to push his horse more than the poor creature deserves in order to make it home again.

There are the usual formalities to take care of first, of course: Arthur asking him what information he'd gleaned from the spies, which of the many enemies had sent them, and, in a somewhat roundabout way, if Merlin was alright. Gwen jumps straight to asking about his well-being; being queen has amplified her perpetual worrying.

Then there is the small feast, and the meeting with the king's advisors. The physician asks to see him, some of the knights want a demonstration, and by the time Merlin is free the day is almost over.

He grabs a tray of food from the kitchens and then rushes up the stairs to the top of the tallest tower. When they first came up with the arrangement, Merlin moaned at the inconvenience, but now he is more than willing to put up with it. A few stairs don't matter, when the end result is that he has privacy.

Merlin whispers a spell to unlock the door to the only chamber on the top floor. There's a key to this door, an enchanted one that Merlin had made; Arthur keeps it on his person at all times, unless circumstances dictate that another person need to enter. They try to avoid those circumstances – it is better for everyone if Merlin is the only one to enter this room.

He puts up a magical shield before he opens the door, just as a precaution, then steps inside. Although he is braced for attack, nothing happens.

The reason why becomes clear fairly quickly: Morgana is sitting at the table, staring at a bowl of leftover porridge. Judging by the state of it, it is at least a day old. She probably hasn't eaten in over a day now.

“Morgana? I brought you real food,” Merlin says, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. It can be hard to judge how she will react. On good days, she smiles and welcomes him; on bad days, he is greeted by hard objects flung at him.

Morgana looks up, first at the food and then at him. When their eyes meet she smiles, though she makes no move to get up. “I missed you.”

He sets the tray down on the table and settles into the chair next to her. It's an effort not to wince when he sees the state she's gotten herself into in just three – no, four – days: her hair is wild and disheveled, dark bags outline her bloodshot eyes, her shift is dirtied, and there is a strong odor wafting from her. “I missed you too. I'm sorry I was gone for so long.”

When she doesn't do anything except stare at him, Merlin sighs and points at the food. “Eat. I brought pheasant for you.”

She acknowledges the words with a nod, then brings the first morsel of food to her lips with the spoon. The trays for Morgana only ever contain a spoon, never a knife or fork. This room, carefully prepared for Morgana, is devoid of any sharp instruments. The only books are books of poetry, not the philosophy or geography books Morgana once favored. Whatever belongings Morgana once had are gone; this room is not a personal space for her.

Merlin talks while she eats. The content doesn't really matter, though he knows that Morgana absorbs every word. He could talk about the weather and she would remember it. It's nice, having somebody's attention focus completely on him for a change. He is so used to playing second fiddle to Arthur – and he loves Arthur, but at times it grates – that when Morgana first showed this unabashed attention to his spoken word, he nearly clammed up.

When Morgana has finished her meal, she moves to sit on his lap. “I'm glad you're back. I get lonely without you. Nobody else ever visits me.”

Merlin gives her a half-smile. She has no other visitors, of course, because Arthur thought it was too dangerous, and Merlin agreed. There is a spell in place to keep Morgana from leaving, and the servants that come to clean or drop off food have been given charms that render them unnoticeable within the confines of the room. Morgana cannot try to curry any favors with people she does not know are there.

For a while, Arthur and Gwen insisted that Merlin, too, keep his distance. They didn't understand – still don't, not really – how much guilt Merlin carries. He knows it is his fault that Morgana is like this now. He should have kept her away from Morgause, in any way possible; instead, he let her fall under their influence. He has many regrets from the days before Arthur was crowned. He refuses to have any more.

“I love you, Morgana. You know that,” he tells her, letting a hand settle on her hip. Morgana smirks and pulls up the hem of her shift.

“I love you too. So much, Merlin. You're the only thing I can think about.” She accentuates her words with a deep kiss, one that draws a moan out of Merlin. There is no denying that Morgana is good at anything she puts her mind to.

If left up to Morgana, they will end up naked and on the floor soon enough. Normally, Merlin wouldn't mind, but it's been four days and Morgana has obviously not been taking care of herself. So he gently guides her hands away from him and pulls away. “Let's get you a bath first, all right?” Seeing the look on her face, he adds, “Just a bath.”

The tub is in a corner of the room, with a screen standing next to it. Merlin had tried, at first, to give her privacy during her baths, but she just pushed the screen aside and now there is no point to it anymore. There is no part of Morgana he hasn't seen, and no part she would want to hide from him.

“Do the spell,” Morgana whispers into his ear.

Merlin nods, though he manages to get them both standing and next to the tub before he whispers the words that fill it with hot, clean water. Morgana delights in this, leans in close to him and kisses his jaw. “Another.”

He shakes his head. “Bath first.”

It's enough of an incentive: Morgana steps away and strips in a few quick motions, then settles herself into the hot water. The sharp temperature change elicits a hiss from her, though once she is settled she seems pleased. Merlin reaches for the soap and washcloth lying on the nearby table, so he can begin washing her. “Behave yourself,” he warns as he places the cloth to her skin.

Of course today ends up being a day when she feels like being contrary; she makes his job as hard as possible. She moans loudly at every touch, wriggles in all directions and splashes water all over him. “You'll have to take those off,” she says, pointing at his trousers.

“When we're done.” Before she can try to distract him any further, he magics some of the water to pour over her head.

Not that Morgana isn't distracting all by herself, even when she sputtering over the sudden drenching. Merlin has a hard time keeping his touches light, to only wipe dirt and sweat away when he wants to be massaging her breasts or letting his fingers slip inside her. He manages to finish the task though, and feels proud that he's only _half_ -hard at the end of it.

He even gets her to sit still while he brushes her hair, even though she obviously thinks that if she is naked and not in the bath anymore, there are better things to be doing. “Your hair is so lovely though,” he whispers, “and it would be a shame to let it grow wild.”

“Oh, very well, if you insist. This is only for you,” she replies, and for all her put-upon airs, Merlin can see her lips curl up in the vanity mirror.

Then, finally, he leads Morgana to the bed. Now that she is fed and clean, he can let himself enjoy her company. She is forceful in bed, stripping him of his clothes in no time at all, wasting no time in lowering her mouth to his cock. Merlin marvels at how good she is, and it takes great effort not to feel inadequate next to her talent. He doesn't even think it's practice, because he and Will had practiced plenty and Will had never managed to bring him to the edge in just those few short breaths.

“Shit, Morgana, I'm not going to last like this,” he says, voice hoarse. Instead of pulling away, Morgana grins and rolls her tongue over the head of his cock.

It's her fingers though that always finish him. Sometime after landing on the bed, she must have grabbed for the vial of oil – there are now two slick fingers probing into his hole. It takes all of his will power not to come on the spot; there is nothing he can do when he does come after just a few moments of her stroking that point of pleasure inside him.

“Morgana...” He never knows what to say to her in these moments, so he tries, “I don't deserve you.” They aren't anywhere near the right words, but until he can sort out what he wants to say, they are as close to appropriate as he can get.

Not that Morgana is in the mood for much talking anyway. “Of course you do,” is her only response, “as long as you put your hands to good use.”

 _That_ , that he can do. He's still feeling a bit weak, but Morgana rolls closer to make it easy for him. His fingers dip along her thighs and settle across her sex, to stroke at that nub that makes Morgana squirm. “Harder,” she demands. “And... and... do. Do magic.”

It's something he doesn't quite get, why him doing spells, any spells, makes Morgana wild for him. He whispers a few words to make a gentle breeze ghost over them, and is rewarded with Morgana's moans. “Another,” she demands, pressing her hands against his to force his pace.

The spells he cast are all useless, nonsensical; a sudden warmth in the room, the water in the tub steaming into air, the leftover porridge becoming fresh again. Between spells he lays kisses on her breasts, sucks gently on one nipple, then the other. She has guided his fingers inside her, begging for “more” – more pressure, more kisses, more magic.

The last spell he casts sends a soft spark out from his hands, to travel all across her body and caress every last inch of her skin. He feels her shuddering as she reaches climax, though in this, she is silent, just a few short gasps of breath.

“I love you so much,” she tells him as he pulls her into an embrace. He smiles and lets her kiss him, even as he wills the sheets to pull over them. “I love you too.”

He anticipates Morgana's struggles when the sheets settle over them. It's magic that helps him keep her in place, though he regrets having to do so.

“No, we can-- we can go again,” Morgana pleads, her voice pitched high in panic. “You can take me from behind, you like that, right? Or come in my mouth, or--”

Merlin pets her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Shhh. It's all right.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. Please don't make me sleep. I don't want to.”

It's hard, sometimes, to do the right thing. Merlin wants nothing more than to take her up on her offers, to go another round, and then another, and another, until both of them are too exhausted to think. But Morgana's eyes are enough to let him know that this is the right choice. “You've barely slept these past four days. You need to sleep.”

Morgana tries to kick the sheets off, but magic makes them cling to their bodies. “I don't want to! The nightmares. Please don't make me see the nightmares.”

Under any other circumstance – but no. Arthur and Gwen were very clear that Morgana could have nothing to remind her of Morgause, and that included the charmed bracelet that kept the prophecies at bay. Merlin has tried over the years to replicate the effect, but he has little knowledge of how prophecies work, beyond that he hates them, and has been unable to find her a reprieve from the nightly torments.

They can be helpful too, of course. Morgana's dreams have warned them time and again of surprise attacks, of events that will occur if things stay their course. Not for the first time Merlin wonders if this was Arthur's intent all along in keeping Morgana alive.

With a tinge of sorrow, Merlin says the spell that sends Morgana to sleep. He gently reaches up to wipe the frantic tears from her eyes.

“Don't worry. I'm here. I'll take care you,” he promises her. He has to, because nobody else will.


End file.
